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Jedi Power
By the time the doors to the Jedi Council Chamber finally swung open, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, was already angry. If asked, he would have denied it, and would have thought he was telling the truth...but they had left him out here for so long, with nothing to do but stare through the soot-smudged curve of the High Council Tower's window ring at the scarred skyline of Galactic City--damaged in a battle he had won, by the way, personally. Almost single-handedly--and with nothing to think about except why it was taking them so long to reach such a simple decision... Angry? Not at all. He was sure he wasn't angry. He kept telling himself he wasn't angry, and he made himself believe it. Anakin walked into the Council Chamber, head lowered in a show of humility and respect. But down inside him, down around the nuclear shielding that banked his heart, he was hiding. It wasn't anger he was hiding. His anger was only camouflage. Behind his anger hid the dragon. He remembered too well the first time he had entered this Chamber, the first time he had stood within a ring of Jedi Masters gathered to sit in judgment upon his fate. He remembered how Yoda's green stare had seen into his heart, had seen the cold worn of dread eating away at him, no matter how hard he'd tried to deny it: the awful fear he'd felt that he might never see his mother, Shmi Skywalker, again. He couldn't let them see what the worm had grown into. He moved slowly into the center of the circle and brown-toned carpet, and turned toward the Senior Members. Yoda was unreadable as always, his rumpled features composed in a mask of serene contemplation. Mace Windu could have been carved from stone. Ghost-images of Ki-Adi-Mundi and Plo Koon hovered a centimeter above their Council seats, maintained by the seats' internal holoprojectors. Agen Kolar sat alone, between the empty chairs belonging to Shaak Ti and Stass Allie. Obi-Wan Kenobi sat in the chair that once had belonged to Oppo Rancisis, looking pensive. Even worried. "Anakin Skywalker," Master Windu's tone was so severe that the dragon inside Anakin coiled instinctively. "The Council has decided to comply with Chancellor Palpatine's directive, and with the instructions of the Senate that give him the unprecedented authority to command this Council. You are hereby granted a seat at the High Council of the Jedi, as the Chancellor's personal representative." Anakin stood very still for a long moment, until he could be absolutely sure he had heard what he thought he'd heard. Palpatine had been right. He seemed to be right about a lot of things, these days. In fact--now that Anakin came to think of it--he couldn't remember a single instance when the Supreme Chancellor had been wrong. Finally, as it began to sink in upon him, as he gradually allowed himself to understand that the Council had finally decided to grant him his heart's desire, that they finally had recognized his accomplishments, his dedication, his power, he took a slow, deep breath. "Thank you, Masters. You have my pledge that I will uphold the highest principles of the Jedi Order." "Allow this appointment lightly, the Council does not." Yoda's ears curled forward at Anakin like accusing fingers. "Disturbing is this move by Chancellor Palpatine. On many levels." They have become more concerned with avoiding the oversight of the Senate than they are with winning this war... Anakin inclined his head. "I understand." "I'm not sure you do." Mace Windu leaned forward, staring into Anakin's eyes with a measuring squint. Anakin was barely paying attention; in his mind, he was already leaving the Council Chamber, riding the turbolift to the archives, demanding access to the restricted vault by authority of his new rank-- "You will attend the meetings of this Council," the Korun Master said, "but you will not be granted the rank and privileges of a Jedi Master." "What?" It was a small word, a simple word, an instinctive recoil from words that felt like punches, like stun blasts exploding inside his brain that left his head ringing and the room spinning around him--but even to his own ears, the voice that came from his lips didn't sound like his own. It was deeper, darker, clipped and oiled, resonating from the depths of his heart. It didn't sound like him at all, and it smoked with fury. "How dare you? How dare you?" Anakin stood welded to the floor, motionless. He wasn't even truly aware of speaking. It was as if someone else were using his mouth--and now, finally, he recognized the voice. It sounded like Count Dooku. But it was not Dooku's voice. It was the voice of Dooku's destroyer. "No Jedi in this room can match my power--no Jedi in the galaxy! You think you can deny Mastery to me?" "The Chancellor's representative you are," Yoda said. "And it is as his representative you shall attend the Council. Sit in this chamber you will, but no vote will you have. The Chancellor's views you shall present. His wishes. His ideas and directives. Not your own." Up from the depths of his furnace heart came an answer so far transcending fury that it sounded cold as interstellar space. "This is an insult to me, and to the Chancellor. Do not imagine that it will be tolerated." Mace Windu's eyes were as cold as the voice from Anakin's mouth. "Take your seat, young Skywalker." Anakin matched his stare. Perhaps I'll take yours. His own voice, inside his head, had a hot black fire that smoked from the depths of his furnace heart. You think you can stop me from saving my love? You think you can make me watch her die? Go ahaead and Vaapad this, you-- "Anakin," Obi-Wan said softly. He gestured to an empty seat beside him. "Please." And something in Obi-Wan's gentle voice, in his simple, straightforward request, sent his anger slinking off ashamed, and Anakin found himself alone on the carpet in the middle of the Jedi Council, blinking. He suddenly felt very young, and very foolish. "Forgive me, Masters." His bow of contrition couldn't hide the blaze of embarrassment that climbed his cheeks. Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker was not nervous in the office of Chancellor Palpatine. Certainly he understood the man's power, and certainly he respected the office itself, but the young Padawan felt very comfortable here, felt as if he was with a friend. He hadn't spent much time with Palpatine, but on those few occasions when he had spoken with the man privately, he had always felt as if the Supreme Chancellor was taking an honest interest in him. In some ways, Anakin felt as if Palpatine was an additional mentor--not as directly as Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, of course, but offering solid and important advice. More than that, though, Anakin always felt as if he was welcome here. "I will talk to her," Palpatine agreed, upon hearing Anakin's request that he speak with Padme Amidala about leaving Coruscant for the relative safety of Naboo. "Senator Amidala will not refuse an executive order. I know her well enough to assure you of that." "Thank you, Your Excellency." "And so, my young Padawan, they have finally given you an assignment," the Chancellor said with a wide and warm smile, the way a father might talk to a son. "Your patience has paid off." "Your guidance more than my patience," Anakin replied. "I doubt my patience would have held, had it not been for your assurances that my Jedi Masters were watching me, and that they would trust me with some important duties before too long." Palpatine nodded and smiled. "You don't need guidance, Anakin," he said. "In time you will learn to trust your feelings. Then you will be invincible. I have said it many times, you are the most gifted Jedi I have ever met." "Thank you, Your Excellency," Anakin replied coolly, though in truth, he had to consciously stop himself from trembling. Hearing such a compliment from one who did not understand--like from his mother, Shmi--was much different from hearing it from Palpatine, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. This was an accomplished man, more accomplished, perhaps, than anyone else in the galaxy. He was not an underling of Yoda or Mace Windu. Anakin understood that a man like Palpatine would not throw out such compliments if he did not believe them. "I see you becoming the greatest of all the Jedi, Anakin," Palpatine went on. "Even more powerful than Master Yoda." Anakin hoped his legs wouldn't simply buckle beneath him. He could hardly believe the words, and yet a part of him did believe them. There was a strength within him, a power beyond the limits the Jedi seemed to place upon him, and upon themselves. Anakin sensed that clearly. He knew that Obi-Wan didn't understand, and that was his biggest frustration with his Master. To Anakin's thinking, Obi-Wan's leash was too short. He had no idea of how he might answer Palpatine's continuing compliments, so he just stood in the center of the room and smiled for a bit, while the Chancellor stood by the window, looking out at the endless streams of Coruscant traffic. After many moments had passed, Anakin worked up the courage to move around the desk and join him following the Supreme Chancellor's gaze up at the traffic lanes. Darth Vader stalked the low-ceilinged area below the elevated platform in the Emperor's throne room on the second Death Star. Holding his lightsaber ready, he searched for his son, Luke Skywalker, in the semi-darkness and said, "You cannot hide forever, Luke." From the shadows, Luke answered, "I will not fight you." "Give yourself to the dark side," Vader urged. "It is the only way you can save your friends." Luke closed his eyes. I'm sorry, Leia and Han. I'd do anything to save you, but I must resist the dark side. Suddenly, Luke felt a dull ache in his head, and sensed that Vader was using the Force to probe his mind. "Yes, your thoughts betray you," Vader spoke, confirming Luke's suspicion. "Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for..." Luke tried to block his thoughts--and failed. "Sister!" Vader said. "So...you have a twin sister. Your feelings have now betrayed her, too. Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete. If you will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will." "No!" Luke screamed in anger as he ignited his lightsaber and rushed at Vader. Sparks flew as they traded blows in the cramped area, and Luke felt the hatred within him build with each passing second. You'll never take Leia, and you'll never take me! He kept swinging, forcing Vader to retreat from under the platform, until they arrived at the short bridge that overlooked the elevator shaft. Vader fell back against the bridge's railing, then was knocked to his knees. As he raised his lightsaber to block another onslaught, Luke slashed through Vader's right hand, severing it at the wrist. Metal and electronic parts flew from Vader's shattered stump, and his lightsaber clattered uselessly away, rolling over the edge of the bridge and into the apparently bottomless shaft below. Luke angled his lightsaber at Vader's throat, then held the blade there, watching Vader's struggling form. On the stairway behind Luke, Emperor Palpatine was unable to contain himself. "Good! Your hate has made you powerful. Now, fulfill your destiny and take your father's place at my side!" Luke knew what the Emperor expected. He wants me to kill Vader. He wants me to kill my own father. Luke looked at his father's mechanical hand, then to his own black-gloved right hand. Am I becoming like my father? Is that my destiny after all? Then Luke made the decision for which he had spent a lifetime preparing. He deactivated his lightsaber, turned to the Emperor, and said "Never!" Luke flung his lightsaber aside and stood there unarmed. The Emperor scowled. "I'll never turn to the dark side," Luke vowed. "You've failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me." "With immeasurable displeasure, the Emperor said, "So be it, Jedi." In the Emperor's throne room, Darth Vader remained lying against the railing on the bridge above the elevator shaft. Vader had known Emperor Palpatine long enough to know what would happen next. He watched the Emperor descend to the bottom of the stairs and face Luke. The Emperor said, "If you will not be turned, you will be destroyed." Then he raised his arms and extended his gnarled fingers toward Luke. Blinding bolts of blue lightning shot from the Emperor's hands, and Luke was suddenly enveloped by crackling bands of energy. He tried to deflect the lightning but was so verwhelmed that his knees buckled. He collapsed onto some canisters near the bridge's railing. As the Emperor continued to strike Luke with energized bolts, Vader struggled to his feet. Badly wounded, he moved slowly to stand beside his Master. Sneering at Luke, the Emperor said "Young fool...only now, at the end, do you understand." More blue lightning coursed over and through Luke. He fought to remain conscious and clutched at a canister to keep from falling into the adjacent shaft. "Your feeble skills are no match for the power of the dark side," the Emperor leered. "You have paid the price of your lack of vision." He released another bombardment of power at Luke, who writhed on the floor in unbearable pain. Using the last of his strength, Luke lifted his arm and reached out toward Vader. "Father, please," Luke groaned. "Help me." Vader could see that Luke was on the verge of death. He looked to the Emperor, then back to Luke, who had curled into a fetal position on the floor. "Now, young Skywalker..." the Emperor snarled, "you will die." Luke had not imagined pain beyond what he had already suffered, but then he was hit by a wave of power that was even more staggering. His harsh screams echoed across the throne room. Beside the Emperor, Darth Vader continued to stand and watch. He looked to the Emperor again, then back to Luke. And then, in a moment, something changed. Perhaps he remembered something heard in his youth a long time ago: an ancient prophecy of the Chosen One who would bring balance to the Force. Perhaps the vague outlines of someone named Shmi and a Jedi named Qui-Gon struggled to the surface of his consciousness. The most powerful, the most repressed thought of all could have emerged from the darkness: Padme...and her undying love for someone he once knew well. And despite all the terrible, unspeakable things he'd done in his life, he suddenly realized he could not stand by and allow the Emperor to kill their son. And in that moment, he was no longer Darth Vader. He was Anakin Skywalker. He grabbed the Emperor from behind. The impossibly wretched Sith Lord gaped and squirmed in his embrace, continuing to release blue lightning, but the bolts veered away from Luke and arced back to strike the Sith Lords. Dazed, Luke looked up to see the lightning travel through Vader and the Emperor. A burst of high-energy photons made Vader's own damaged skull briefly visible through his armored helmet. Somehow, despite his severed hand, Vader had managed to lift the Emperor high over his head. With one final burst of his once-venerated strength, Darth Vader hurled the Emperor into the elevator shaft, then collapsed at the shaft's edge. Emperor Palpatine screamed as his body plunged down the seemingly bottomless shaft. When he was almost beyond sight, his body exploded, releasing dark energy and creating a rush of air up through the throne room. From where he lay, Luke could tell by the rasping rattle from Vader's helmet that his breathing apparatus was broken. Luke crawled the short distance to his father's side and pulled him away from the edge of the abyss. Category:Fan Fiction